Dotty threw the necklace over her head, and the air became as fragrant as a garden of spices.
"I don't mean to meddle with other peoples' things any more; mother has taught me better. But there's one thought keeps coming into my mind: Isn't it wicked to have so much jewelry? The 'postles didn't wear any, nor Job didn't wear any, nor Moses.
"Well, nor auntie don't, either. Nothing but a watch and wedding-ring. Horace says that's so queer.
"Now, what's the use of it, just to lock up away from the morths? I don't believe auntie knows how many rings there were in that casket!"
This was a new idea. Dotty's eyes began to sparkle. They would have made a jeweller's fortune if he could have put them in a gold setting, and sold them for sapphires.
"The rings are somewhere round. I'm sure I can find them; but if I can't, will it be very wrong not to tell, when 'twouldn't make the least difference, and auntie never wears 'em? Ought never to have 'em at all; ought to have the ornaments of meek and quiet spirits, instead of rings.
"Prudy would think 'twas awful not to tell; but Prudy can't say anything to me. Didn't she get mad yesterday, real, shaky mad? 'Twas a great deal wickeder for her than it is for me—her disposition is real good, and mine was born awful. So Prudy can't say a word to me about anything I do.
"And I declare, who wants to eat olives and fried pork? Prudy wouldn't like it any better'n I do. She would think she'd tell, but p'haps she wouldn't any quicker'n me.
"All just for two old rings, that never did me any good, and didn't have much of a time keeping house, either."
"Dotty Dimple, you here?" said Prudy, appearing at her sister's elbow, like an accusing angel. "Why, I've been hunting you all over the house. You mustn't wear that on your neck; it is a rosary; it doesn't belong to you."